


When the Lights Come Up

by chalantness



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23907433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chalantness/pseuds/chalantness
Summary: I’ve been waiting for you all along, Steve had told her, down on his knee.Because that life you wanted me to get? It starts with you. I think it always has.
Relationships: Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 46
Kudos: 264





	When the Lights Come Up

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY (belated) ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO "AVENGERS: ENDGAME"!
> 
> I don't really know what this is, I just know that I saw [this fanart](https://fyeahmcublackwidow.tumblr.com/post/616664354118680576) on my dash and went a little crazy! This is also loosely inspired by a prompt sent in by an anon about Steve secretly knowing Russian. The way I ended up using it is different from the actual prompt, but I hope that anon still enjoys this anyway if they read it!
> 
> With that being said, I completely relied on [this post](https://maireyart.tumblr.com/post/182116620525/i-hope-this-is-not-a-strange-question-but-have) and [this article](https://livefluent.com/sexy-in-russian-49-romantic-russian-phrases/) for the translations, so I apologize in advance if anything isn't accurate. I did not take a lot of time to cross-reference since I hadn't planned on writing this so quickly, so please feel free to correct me if you feel comfortable doing so. My tumblr (also "chalantness") has the anonymous function enabled if you prefer that.

It’s strange how something can feel familiar and new all at once.

Natasha wonders if she should feel some small, lingering sense of wariness as her gaze drifts across the room, taking in all of the chatter and laughter as it floats through the air. The last time she’d stood behind this same bar at a party almost exactly like this one, it had ended in a fight, just as it always seems to. Every single thing on this floor may look as it always has, but Natasha knows that it’s been ripped and shattered and repaired. Natasha knows the fallout that happened that night, in this very room, had led to a lot of lives lost and almost the fall of an entire country in a blink—and yet, here they are again, gathered like they’ve done dozens of times before, and there’s nothing melancholic at all about a room full of people laughing and drinking and celebrating despite the fallout that had once happened here. Just as there’s nothing melancholic about walking through the streets of neighborhoods that’d been rebuilt and breathed back to life, even though, just a year ago, they’d sat vacant and haunted by the ghosts of everyone that was lost.

There’s only light, and warmth, and something that feels suspiciously like _hope_.

“Well, doesn’t this scene look familiar,” a voice muses, and Natasha turns to find Tony sitting himself on one of the barstools on the other side of the counter. “You know, if you’re looking for some extra cash, I can always hire you back on as my assistant. No need to get all my guests drunk just to squeeze a bigger tip out of them.”

Natasha smirks. “I was more Pepper’s assistant than yours,” she points out, “considering you were a little too preoccupied with your downward spiral.”

“In my defense, I was dying,” he reminds, and she really, _really_ shouldn’t want to laugh at that, of all things. But she catches his gaze, sees her own amusement reflected in his eyes as his grin widens, and she can’t quite help the giggle that spills from her lips over the absurdity of this, of _them_ and the two of them joking about death when, a year ago, that had been exactly their fate. “I’m surprised that Steve’s even let you out of his sight in a dress like that,” Tony adds, scrunching his face as he continues, almost in the same breath, “and I promise that sounded classier in my head than it did out loud.” Tony holds both hands up as if in surrender, and Natasha smirks as she shakes her head at him.

“The only reason I’m still _in_ this dress is because I’ve been out of Steve’s sight,” she says, feeling her smirk widen as Tony groans loudly.

“Okay, okay, enough.” He squints his eyes at her in a playful. “You know, when I said Steve should surprise you by picking out a dress, I _knew_ it was going to backfire on me but I went and opened my big mouth, anyway. I guess self-sabotaging is a hard habit to shake. Then again,” he pauses, pointedly shifting his gaze to her hand, “maybe not.”

Natasha follows his stare, flexing her fingers out as the diamond on her ring glitters under the glow of the lights. “Maybe not,” she agrees.

“It’s nice, huh? The quiet life.” Tony’s gaze shifts from up from her engagement ring to meet her stare, his grin fading into something softer. “You know, I was a little worried at first. That you wouldn’t know how to put the suit away for good.”

“I don’t think any of us puts them away for good,” she points out gently. “It’s just not how we’re wired. _You_ came back, didn’t you?”

“I did.” His smile hitches at the corner. “The difference is that I walked away to begin with. So did Steve, a little bit. We may not have been talking, but I knew Cap gave his suit a chance to collect dust for five years while you handled operations on your own.” He hesitates, holding her stare, but she gives him a small smile and a nod and he nods back as he goes on. “Of course, I can’t give Steve _all_ the credit. He wasn’t exactly trying to move on, even if that’s what he preached once a week during all those meetings he ran. But that part wasn’t too surprising.” Something somber flashes in Tony’s eyes, but it’s gone with a blink, his smile widening. “There was no way Steve was moving on without you.”

Natasha smiles, a warmth fluttering in her chest as she glances back down at her ring.

 _I’ve been waiting for you all along,_ Steve had told her, down on his knee. _Because that life you wanted me to get? It starts with you. I think it always has._

“He’s always been a stubborn man,” Natasha quips, and if Tony notices her voice quivering ever so slightly, he doesn’t point it out.

“He has to be if he wants to have any hope of keeping up with you,” Tony retorts, and Natasha breathes out a laugh, shaking her head. There’s a small pause, and then, softly, Tony adds, “You know you two are welcome to stay as long as you want. Stay _forever_. Morgan will become a nightmare if you ever leave our guest bedroom.”

Natasha laughs again, her chest squeezing as she glances across the room at where Morgan is running around with Lila and Nathaniel. It’s ridiculous, really, the pang of reluctance that hits her whenever she thinks about not seeing that little girl at the table for breakfast every morning. The feeling is made even _more_ ridiculous when you consider that she and Steve are building their home on the same lake as Tony and Pepper, only a few dozen meters away from their cabin. They’ll practically still live together, anyway—and no, that hadn’t even been in the plan. They knew staying in the guest bedroom was only temporary, but, after only a couple of weeks, she and Steve simply couldn’t picture living anywhere else. Briefly, she and Steve had considered renting a place to stay during construction, but Tony and Pepper shot down that idea without a second of hesitation.

“Morgan will adapt,” Natasha points out, one eyebrow arched at Tony as she grins. “And you will, too, even if you’re nearly as stubborn as me when it comes to change.”

“Okay, you got me,” he chuckles, holding his hands up for a moment before tapping his knuckles on the bar, grinning at her. “It’s been tolerable, though, right? Camping out in our guest bedroom?”

Natasha smiles. “It’s been great, Tony,” she tells him. “We may be moving out eventually, but you can’t get rid of us that easily.”

Tony smirks, but rather than a quip in response, he simply nods. “Good.” He taps the bar again, sliding off of the barstool and onto his feet, and now there’s a playful sort of glint in his eyes as he leans in and adds, his voice low, “By the way, you might have everyone else fooled by being back here, but don’t think I didn’t notice that congratulations are in order.” Natasha narrows her eyes at him ever so slightly as he draws away, but she doesn’t quite fight her own smirk as his widens back at her. “I’m surprised Steve kept quiet.”

Natasha rubs her lips together, but Tony just winks and turns to walk away before she can respond, heading over to where Pepper is sitting with Laura and Maria.

Somehow, she’s not surprised.

Natasha feels herself smiling as she shakes her head, her gaze drifting over the crowd, and she hopes she never, ever stops getting that little burst of warmth that rolls down her spine when she catches Steve’s gaze. He’s across the room, almost facing away from her where he, Wanda, and Scott are at the pool tables, but he glances over his shoulder the moment she finds, his lips hitching up into that crooked, boyish smile she loves. He leans off of the pool table, turning to Wanda and Scott to excuse himself, and Natasha feels a flutter in her chest as he crosses the room and stops in front of her. He holds his hand out, and his thumb brushes over the band of her ring when she slips her palm against his.

“What did Tony want to talk about?” Steve asks as he brings her hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss to her knuckles.

“He wanted to congratulate us,” she answers, one eyebrow raised. Steve blinks, surprise flitting across his expression only for a second before it shifts into a grin.

“Of course,” he breathes out with a laugh, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the back of her hand. He doesn’t seem even a little bit bothered by this revelation. Instead, his grin softens into a smile as he gestures with a nod of his head toward one of the doors leading to the balcony. “Let’s get some air?”

She nods, letting him guide her out from behind the bar, and he pulls her against the warmth of his chest when they step outside. It’s definitely still cold out, but with summer only a few weeks away, it’s already starting to feel warmer outside. Natasha doesn’t doubt that they’ll spend most evenings in their new house, out on the patio just like this. It’ll be a matter of days before they’ll officially be done with construction, and by the time they get moved in and settled down, it’ll be warm enough to enjoy the lake behind them.

She feels him press his lips against the top of her head, his hand drifting across her shoulder and down her neckline, her skin almost entirely bared from the thin straps and tastefully low neckline of her dress. She shivers lightly against the touch, tipping her head up to meet his gaze as his hand splays against her stomach. She’s only _barely_ starting to feel the tiny bump of her stomach, and she’s definitely not close enough for anyone other than Steve to see, but the high waist of her dress would’ve hidden it well, anyway.

“How are you feeling?”

She covers his hand with hers. “I’m good, I promise.”

“Yeah?” He starts stepping back, gently tugging her with him as he pulls her further onto the balcony. “You don’t need anything from me?” he asks, one eyebrow arched as they round the corner. Natasha breathes out a laugh as he guides her back against the wall, tucking them out of sight from the door as he steps into her space.

He pushes a hand into her hair, tangling his fingers into the curls as she bites on her lower lip. “No,” she answers.

“No?” His other hand curves around her waist as he breathes out a chuckle, hovering his mouth over hers. She slips her hands under his blazer, splays her hands against his chest through the thin material of his dress shirt as she stretches on her toes, ghosting her lips against his. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope.” She nips at his lower lip. “What about you, soldier?” She leans away, just a little, and blinks up at him from under her eyelashes. “Do you need anything from me?”

His eyes seem even darker, somehow, and the hand at her hip squeezes her gently. “ _Mozhno ya tebya poceluyu?_ ”

_Can I kiss you?_

Natasha’s heart skips in her chest, her breath hitching as can practically _feel_ the cadenced syllables brushing across her skin, sending a tingle down her spine.

She blinks, swaying back ever so slightly, but Steve steps closer, practically pressing her between him and the wall. “Steve?” she asks with a whisper.

“This may be one of the only times I’ll ever be able to surprise you,” he says, his eyes glinting, practically twinkling like the city lights glowing somewhere over his shoulder. He ducks his head, presses his face against her cheek, and each word is almost a kiss against her skin as he says, “ _Ya obozhaju tebya_.” She feels him smile. “ _Ya tebya lyublyu_.”

_I adore you. I love you._

She exhales a sharp breath, reaching up to cup his face with her hands. “ _Steve._ ”

“I just started learning,” he tells her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, no doubt feeling the warmth of the blush just under her skin. “I don’t know if you want to teach them the language, but if you do, I want to be a little prepared. I want our child to adore every part of you, because it’ll be part of them, too.”

She strokes her thumbs over his jaw, her vision blurring ever so slightly at the edges as she breathes out a shaky laugh. She can feel her heart thrumming against her ribcage, feel her skin tingling where his thumb is smoothing in circles over the pulse in her neck, and she stretches up and brushes her lips against his. “ _Poceluy menya_ ,” she murmurs— _kiss me_ —practically pleading it against his mouth, and he _does,_ slanting his lips over hers and making a low noise from the back of his throat as his tongue sweeps past her lips. His hand slides down from her neck, fingers splaying over the bared skin of her back as he pulls her off of the wall and presses her against his chest, kissing her even deeper.

He may say that she’s the hard one to surprise, but _Steve_ is always the one that surprises her, the one that always sends a thrill down her spine.

He kisses her right there on the balcony until she’s breathless, until she’s hazy and heady with the want, feeling flushed against the cold air of the night – and she doesn’t care that there’s a party on the other side of this wall, and she definitely doesn’t care someone may notice that they’re gone.

And she knows that Steve doesn’t care about any of that, either, when he pulls away from their kiss with a sharp inhale and murmurs, right into her ear: “ _Ya tebya hochu._ ”

 _I want you_.

She feels a little frantic when she nods, her hands coming between them, reaching for his belt, but he gently bats them away, kissing the side of her jaw, the pulse in her neck, the dip between her breasts just above the neckline of her dress as he lowers himself onto his knees in front of her. He pauses for a moment, pressing a softer, sweeter kiss to the flat of her stomach through the silky fabric of her dress, and she pushes on of her hands into his hair, twisting her fingers into it as he glances up at her with a smile. It’s soft at first, but only for a moment, and then he’s smirking, his eyes glinting as he gathers the skirt of her dress in his hands and pushes it up her thighs. She twists her fingers into the fabric, holding it up for him as his head dips underneath, and she feels the heat of his mouth right before it’s against her, his tongue licking at her through her lace panties.

She lets out a shaky breath, her head falling back against the wall.

He pulls one of her legs over his shoulder, presses one hand to brace her against the wall as the other tugs aside the front of her panties, and then his tongue is lapping at her again, his lips finding her clit and sucking gently, and she feels her body quiver as she curls forward.

She can’t quite roll her hips against him like this, can’t tug on his hair with her hands holding her dress up, and she wonders if that’s why he’s done this to her a few dozen times before and yet, this feels a little bit _more_ —more intense and more consuming and just more, _oh god_ , it’s _so much_ _more_.

She bites down on her lower lip as he rubs the tip of his tongue against her clit, circling, just as he always does when he knows she’s close, and she thinks she nearly draws blood in her effort to stifle her cry as she tips over that dizzying edge. He continues lapping at her, soothing her nerves as her orgasm bursts through her, until she’s mewling and breathing out his name. He kisses the inside of her thigh, keeping her trembling body braced against the wall for balance as he pulls himself back up, and she tightens her hold on her dress with one hand as the other grasps at his tie and pulls him forward for a kiss. “ _Lyubimiy_ ,” she murmurs against his mouth, earning a low groan in response.

_My beloved._

“ _Rodnaya_ ,” he whispers, making her chest tighten as he presses his body against hers. _My dear._ “I’ll be gentle, love,” he promises, hooking an arm around her, and she breathes out a laugh as he lifts her up, her legs going around his waist as he hitches her higher against the wall.

She can feel him pressing at her entrance, can feel her bundle of nerves ache with want as she winds her arms around his neck. “Maybe not _too_ gentle,” she says, feeling him chuckle as she slants her mouth against his, and she nearly bites down on his lower lip as he pulls her body against his, slipping into her and filling her as best as she can from this angle, in this position. It’s not the first or even fifteenth time they’ve done something like this, but each time is just as thrilling as the first as he starts moving against her.

She’s not quite sure how it’s possible to know exactly how her body fits against his, to know that they’ll always move in sync, no matter what—and yet, it still sends a shiver of surprise through her when she can _feel_ him against her, inside of her, touching every part of her.

“ _Ya tebya lyublyu_ ,” she breathes, kissing him and whispering it again, and again, and _again_ , her body trembling and tightening around his as he moves faster, harder.

_I love you._

She gasps as he hits that spot inside of her that sends a white-hot burst of heat through her veins, and she whimpers against his mouth as he stifles her cry with another kiss as she falls over the edge again. This time, she can feel him inside of her, throbbing against her as he chases his own high, and it drags out her pleasure as it bursts through her. He groans lowly, kissing her harder, deeper, his hips stuttering, and then he’s following her over that edge, her lungs starting to burn from how deep and hard he’s kissing her.

It’s a long moment until Steve hums softly, breaking their kiss and letting her catch her breath as he presses his lips against the corner of her mouth.

“ _Nat_.” He kisses her cheek, the bridge of her nose, and then he pulls back, smiling down at her as her eyelashes flutter open. He reaches up with one hand, tucking a few errant strands of her hair behind her ear before dipping it down between them, pressing his palm to her stomach. “You still okay?” he asks softly.

“We’re perfect,” she tells him, curving her hand over his, brushing her thumb against his ring like he loves to do to hers, and Steve is smiling as he brushes his lips against hers in another kiss.


End file.
